


Our Dreams Were Not Soured By Life

by jfiacre



Series: Twenty Somethings, Getting By [2]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff, Inaho can be extra af, M/M, Paris (City), Sightseeing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfiacre/pseuds/jfiacre
Summary: On their third date, Inaho takes Slaine to Paris.





	Our Dreams Were Not Soured By Life

On their first date, Inaho takes him to get ice cream and they walk along the shore while Tharsis circles around Inaho’s legs. Eventually causing Inaho to stumble backwards and drop his ice cream. Slaine remembers the taste of salt and mint chip, and the sound of his own laughter. 

The second date sees Slaine sitting in the most expensive restaurant in Vers over brunch. They trade snarky remarks over belgian waffles and mimosas before fighting over the bill. It ends when Inaho steals a kiss from him that has Slaine clutching his left cheek for a whole ten minutes. 

And on their third date, after a five hour flight, Inaho takes Slaine to Paris on a Friday evening. The bed at Four Seasons is warm and soft under him, and he only wakes up from his nap due to the incessant honking outside. Inaho lays next to him, tucked under the covers, and dead to the world for another twenty minutes. Slaine takes the time to contemplate. 

After two dates within a month, Slaine is in Paris with Inaho. 

Slaine is in Paris with Inaho. 

Slaine is in Paris with Inaho. 

Slaine is in Paris. 

And it’s because of Inaho.

Slaine is in Paris, a city that he’s only dreamed of going while he sits at the counter of Troyard Books. He is in Paris and that’s because Inaho takes him. 

Inaho shows up on Friday like he normally does and asks Slaine to pack a bag for a weekend trip. He asks Slaine to bring his passport and says no more when they leave for the airport. He pays for the plane tickets, books the hotel, and grabs Slaine’s hand. He doesn’t let go until they reach their suite. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Slaine says under his breath as he looks over to Inaho, only the brown mop of hair peeks out from under the covers, and Slaine squashes the urge to feel them. 

“I’m here aren’t I? You can see me,” Inaho mumbles and he pushes the covers down and aims a calm look at Slaine. “You can touch me too,” he says and takes Slaine’s hand again. 

“I’m quite believable.” 

They hold hands and sit on the bed quietly until Slaine’s stomach grumbles in protest. 

 

 

Dinner is at Le Navigator and only because it’s close to the Notre Dame cathedral. It’s quite a way by metro from where their hotel is, but Slaine doesn’t complain. The restaurant is cozy and homey with dimmed ceiling lights draped with embroidered cloth, the patrons are tucked close together, their whispers lulls Slaine into sleepy calmness that makes him feel at ease, at home. 

For appetizer, they both order the escargot and Slaine’s complexion matches the green liquid that is on the plate until he tries it. 

“It’s good!” He exclaims, plopping the last piece into his mouth, chewing slowly. Inaho is barely on his third one. “It’s all very typical, but I always wanted to try this. Even though it was snails.” 

“Oh good. And here I thought we would have to stop by a fast food restaurant to make you feel at home,” Inaho says, a thoughtful look on his face. Despite his deadpan expression and bland tone, he’s teasing Slaine. 

“I’m not that much of a peasant!” Slaine hisses, earning a few curious glances that has him shrinking back into the booth. “I know how to enjoy the finer things in life. I just never really had the chance to.” While it remained unspoken, Slaine wasn’t poor, but he wasn’t exactly financially stable either. The bookstore only covered the necessities and there wasn’t much left over for him to indulge a little. It was clearly obvious that Inaho made more, but Slaine wasn’t too bothered by it. The man was still a stingy book buyer after all, claiming that buying books online were cheaper and more convenient. 

“Then you won’t mind me ordering some wine then?” 

“I didn’t peg you for an alcoholic. Are we going to have a problem here?” Slaine teases before stealing the last piece of escargot from Inaho’s plate, earning him a dry look. 

“It’s just one glass, or do you want to a soda? Maybe a glass of milk?,” Inaho says. The corner of his lips are curved just the slightest and it’s brief, blink and Slaine would have missed it. He doesn’t. Nor does he miss the challenge that sparks in Inaho’s eyes despite his bland, sleepy tone. 

“Order the wine, you orange wearing fiend,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Inaho’s obnoxious polo shirt. 

They have the wine with their meal. Slaine orders the lamb and it comes with frites, or french fries. Inaho orders the fish that looks as plain as him. Their conversation is pleasant, sprinkled with witty retorts and the occasional laughter from Slaine. The dimmed lighting and the alcohol on his tongue makes him imagine the small, bashful smile that Inaho throws at him. 

Their fingers are linked together on the table and Slaine thinks of going to Beaune for wine tasting with Inaho. The man is a horrible influence. 

 

 

 

Dinner is paid for by Inaho and the man was very adamant about Slaine not figuring out the price despite the constant pokes and jabs to the chest. Slaine shuts up when Inaho leans into his space, his breath ghosting Slaine’s lips briefly before pulling back. He calls for a cab while Slaine agonizes internally. The hotel is a long ways from the restaurant and they will come back tomorrow morning to visit the Notre Dame. 

The cab picks them up and instead of going straight to the hotel, Inaho asks the driver to circle around the streets. Slaine gives him a questioning look before climbing into the back with him. He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, suffering from a mild case of food coma while Inaho reaches over him to roll down the windows. 

“It’s for the view,” he says. 

For the most part, the ride is silent, the driver is content with circling around Paris with no apparent destination and Inaho enjoys his silence when it’s there. Slaine is grateful for that since he isn’t too keen on talking at the moment, but prefers to sit in silence with his eyes closed, until he feels a nudge from Inaho. He cracks open his eyes and shoots the man an annoyed look. “What?” 

“Look,” Inaho says simply and Slaine obeys without protest. 

A soft gasp escapes his lips as he feels the cool breeze rolling over his face, followed by the sounds of chatter, cars honking in the distance, and the simple moment of just being here. Paris is dark, but lively. People are milling about, sauntering in crowds or walking briskly to their next destination, a cellphone in one hand and a bag in another. He spots a man setting up shop on the streets, selling knick knacks and cheap jewelry. There is a woman several feet away, strumming her guitar as she sings a lullaby. They are on the Champ Elysee and Slaine can make out the Arc de Triomphe from afar. Red, yellow, and blue spheres dance in his eyes as he scans through the streets. 

“Are you enjoying the view?” Inaho asks and Slaine forces his gaze away to settle on the stoic man. Inaho looks relaxed in his simple orange polo and khaki pants. His elbow is propped against the armrest of the window, while his hand curves under chin. There is a listless expression his face, but Slaine knows a little better. 

“It’s beautiful,” he says softly. He feels Inaho taking his hand and ignores the soaring swoop he in his chest. He laces his fingers with Inaho’s. There are questions in Slaine’s head that he wants answers to, but doesn’t know how to ask. In truth, he doesn’t know why he’s here and why Inaho is doing so much for him. Inaho is hard to read and says the wrong things at the wrong time. He’s quiet and sometimes it’s too quiet. Stale bread holds more personality and presence than he does. Yet, Slaine is forced to admit, his life is better with Inaho in it. 

“It is,” Inaho says simply and he’s looking straight at Slaine that breaks him from his thoughts. Slaine fidgets from under his gaze and looks away. “Anyways…” He trails off. 

Inaho turns his attentions to the driver, one hand resting on the back of the driver’s chair. 

“Can you take us to the Louvre?” 

The driver nods. 

 

 

The rest of the car ride is quiet, but not an uncomfortable one. Slaine perks up when he recognizes the Louvre Palace in the distance. They take several minutes and Slaine cranes his neck to get a better view of the glass pyramid that he was so used to seeing on postcards and computer screens. When they finally drive away, Slaine leans back into his seat and closes his eyes for a short break. 

 

 

He feels his shoulders being nudged and Slaine frowns in his sleep. He swats the hand away that pokes his cheek. 

“Slaine.” 

He groans and turns away, burying his face into soft fabric. 

“While I wish you could sleep in my arms for a bit more, I can’t feel them,” Inaho says and Slaine feels how close the man is when his breath tickles against his ear. He squeaks, wide awake and shoves himself away from Inaho. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Slaine asks. He’s too embarrassed to be ashamed of the slight whine he hears in his voice. 

“You were tired, so I didn’t see it necessary to wake you,” Inaho says. He hands the driver the money and opens the door. “We’re here now.” 

“Where is ‘here’?” Slaine said as he shuffles out the car. “I thought we were going back to the hotel, since I didn’t think there was anything else to see for the night.” 

He stops himself from complaining further, frozen as he sees Inaho standing before him, reaching out a hand. Behind Inaho, is the Eiffel Tower.. 

Slaine takes the offered hand, gaping at Inaho. 

“I didn’t peg you for the romantic type,” He manages to say despite the bubbly feeling inside his stomach. “It’s not very original too.” 

“I know. Instead of arriving at the exact location like most tourist, it was a better solution to stop at a good distance. The view is even better without craning our necks and the only tourists on this sidewalk is us at the moment,” Inaho says calmly. Despite the romantic backdrop, it amazes Slaine how Inaho can sound so logical and without a hint of emotion. He knows he shouldn’t find that so attractive. 

He pauses for a second and shakes his head, deciding to ignore the piling number of questions for another time. It can wait, but Paris cannot. And Slaine doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says softly. 

Slaine is in Paris with Inaho because Inaho wants him to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't think of how to write their first date, so instead I went with the third date. And I always wanted to write about a couple going off to Paris. This is all very self-indulgent and written with haste, but I hope you all find some enjoyment in it. I apologize for any mistakes that I may have made in the story. 
> 
> I'm thinking of writing a third part, but in the meantime, please let me know what you think! 
> 
> The title is from the song, "We Were Lovers" by Jean Jacques Burnel. It's also the opening song for Gankutsuou.


End file.
